#Immortal x mortal ships my beloved

[cilil]

Day 6 ~ Loss & Betrayal

𓂃🖋 Characters/pairings: Melkor x Mairon 𓂃🖋 Synopsis: With Melkor trapped in the Void, Mairon can no longer reach him and resorts to addressing him in letters to cope with his situation on Númenor. 𓂃🖋 Warnings: References to/discussion of sexual assault. Also Mairon is a hater 𓂃🖋 Oneshot (~1.2k) | AO3

Beloved, 

I made it out of dungeons at last — in body, that is. 

In spirit I have long since been wandering and dreaming to distract myself from the miserable existence that I was subjected to. And subjected myself to; you know as well as I do that at times the long, twisted road of deception is a safer path to tread than brute force. 

I had to let them take me. Though it means little either way. 

The mortal king has, as was to be expected, grown fond of me already. He wants the divine secrets that only our kind has to offer, and more important yet, power and immortality. I promised him all of these things, of course, and he might well get at least a taste of some before I seize victory from his greedy, filthy hands. 

There will be a price to pay, however, that much I know already. Not only the shameful matter of allowing mortals to take me prisoner like a lowly incarnate, but also the realm in itself. 

I despise Númenórë, precious. I hate it. 

It is full of foul, indecent Men, crawling all over the island like the vermin they are. They consume lots of slimy seafood, presumably another "gift" from Ulmo and his ilk, and they audaciously serve me these abominations as well, expecting not only that I should eat them, but also praise their odious cuisine. They love the sea and venture out often, thinking themselves great explorers as if anything they could ever find has not been known for ages untold to us, the makers of this world. They worship our father and the vain Valar who in their eyes are nothing but strange gods they have never seen but bow to nevertheless, while they call us hateful names. 

And yet I must smile and gracefully endure the company of the king and those he surrounds himself with. He has named me his advisor now — a decision he will undoubtedly come to regret, though not a second before my designs for him come to pass and he faces his inevitable doom. 

The queen, it is said, was married to the king against her will, and I can certainly see the utter lack of charm that necessitated a forceful course of action. She does not lie with him willingly, and unfortunately his lust has fallen upon me instead. 

He leers at me when he asks me about our secrets. He corners me when I tell him about power. He touches me when I speak of you. He attempts to hold me when I praise your name. 

He has even had the audacity to call me a servant. 

Precious, 

the king has laid hands on me again. In fact he has only just now exited my chambers, satisfied with his detestable deeds, leaving me to bear the shame and impurity of a mortal's touch. 

I try not to see and not to feel when he comes near me. I try not to recoil or weep or destroy him for the crime of despoiling what belongs only to you. I try not to mourn the loss of our intimacy, long ago though it has been: This form was made for you, made for our love and our pleasure. 

Not for a mortal king.

He grows bolder now, having realised that I will not defend myself, and takes what he wants. And I have to let him. I could, perhaps should destroy him, burn down these chambers, the castle, the entire city with him and flee, but alas, I cannot and will not. For such petty revenge is not enough; the entire realm must fall. 

He does not even have the decency to humbly accept the grace that I show him. He treats me like a common whore, demeans and degrades me, handles me roughly, always takes and takes and takes and never asks. He claims I am nothing but a slave and a prostitute, yet it is him whose mind falls prey to my whispers and whose body cannot resist my beauty. 

I hate it. I hate him. He disgusts me, and no amount of gold or ships or crowns could change that. I need not tell you that only you are King of Kings, and no other could even hope to come close to your glory. I need not tell you that I never wanted any other. 

And yet... no matter how desperately I wish to burn those grasping, grimy, greedy hands whenever it comes into his foolish mind that a mortal could possess a Maia and he reaches for me, I must instead endure. I do not want it. I do not want any of this. But the plan must be executed, so that your enemies will be brought to ruin and returned to the doom you designed for them. 

Worst of all is the knowledge that the king will be back soon. I must admit now that the potency of my charms has become a double-edged sword: So very effective, so very strong is the desire I inspire within the hearts of weak mortal Men, yet being the object of such desire is a most undignified position to be in. 

He is insatiable, thoroughly ensnared, and I am... afraid. 

My love, 

I am distraught, more than I have ever been. I know not what to say. I wanted to cry out to you, but could not allow your name to be sullied by being spoken while another takes what is yours.

Beloved, I have committed the most unforgivable blasphemy against you and our sacred union. I saw it coming, knew it would happen, prayed for your forgiveness in advance, yet it did nothing to dispel the horror of such acts. 

I had to let a mere mortal violate my beautiful fána. I had to let a false king take me. I had to betray both you and myself for the sake of our perfect revenge. 

I want to burn my fána. I will burn it once I no longer need it. 

Even so, I weep. This is the very same fána that you touched, the one that bears the marks of your love. I desperately want to shed a skin so defiled, but the thought of losing what little I have left of you is unbearable. 

Forgive me, my love. Forgive me for letting a filthy mortal have me. Forgive me for sacrificing what is yours as well as mine. I swear that I did it only for you, for only the thought of you can keep me in this world — the thought of how you will smile when you behold the ruin of our enemies, how you will laugh, how pleased you will be with me. 

I have been trying to cleanse myself with water instead, but it is insufficient. I heated it until it was boiling, but it was not enough. 

I still feel his touch upon me, and it disgusts me. 

And if I shall burn to be rid of this filth upon me, so too shall the king and his entire realm. My flames shall feast upon mortal flesh as tribute for my sacrifice, and death shall claim all who remain until there is no one and nothing left of accursed Númenórë and its king. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @sauron-kraut @singleteapot @urwendii

[the-crow-binary]

Top 5 CV ships >:3c

Nnnnnngh most difficult choice EVER

5. Dracastle for that deep, abstract love/bond Dracula and his Castle share, in my head <3 (i am NOT ASHAMED TO PUT IT IN MY TOP 5.) I think I'll put Dreath ex aequo with it because there's definitely a deep bond between those two as well. <3 Death being Dracula's biggest simp confidant and the only companion that he constantly had because he doesn't have any other immortal friend and MAN their bond is something that only immortals can understad and that no mortal could ever. 🥺

4.Isaavor/Isaactor LISTEN I CAN'T CHOOSE. THINGS ARE JUST THE WAY THEY ARE OKAY. I love them both equally for different reasons. <3 Isaactor because TWO LOST SOULS SHUNNED BY THE WORLDS FINDING EACH OTHER AND LOVING EACH OTHER IN THE ONLY WAYS THEY KNOW AND THEY'RE TRAGIC AND SO DIVORCED AND MARRIED AT THE SAME TIME AND AAAAAAAAAA and Isaavor because hot. ;) (ennemies to lovers trope except it's more like ennemies AND lovers).

3. Dramont because OF COURSE DRAMONT HOW COULD I NOT PUT THE DARK LORD X HIS ETERNAL ENNEMIES THEY ARE SO COOL (but choosing it's place in my top with very hard). Tbh I see it as.... Dracula feeling like their bond is similar to the one he shares with Death. Everytime he'll come back, there will be a Belmont (except the few times there wasn't but tbf he wasn't resurrected fully so let's ignore that for a sec). There's two consistant things in Dracula's lives, Death, and the Belmonts. Though the bond Dracula thought he had with the clan was only one sided :) Because they're mortals. :) They can't understand. :) Sure, they understand how they were linked to Dracula, fated to defeat him. But they could never truly understand the bond that linked two immortal souls together. :)

2. Mactor. I fell in this hell made out of our respective blorbos and I AIN'T COMING BACK UP AGAIN. I am so ready to burn with them <3 Oh and, of course, Hecula. :) What do you mean "two ships in one again"? Aren't they technnically the same ship? :) Just with a different name? :)

Some honorable mentions before revealing the top 1 (though i bet you already know what it's gonna be <3):

Hectaly (THE BELOVEDS) - Isaadict (literally so niche but idc i love them :'<) - Isaacula - Maleon - Malter - Wachim - Deathias - Hevor (I'M SORRY I LOVE THEM BUT I HAD TO MAKE SACRIFICES FOR THIS TOP)

Alright, and now, the top of the top, the best of the best, the one and only...

1. Macula. Because NO NO BECAUSE- LISTEN- NO IT'S DEEPER THAN YOU THINK LISTEN I swear I'll finish writing that Macula one day. (at least now I can say that, instead of "i swear i will write it one day" <3 it's called progress, babyyyyy) Anyway I just love the Horrors, Mathias, the pious man, seeing what he's fated to become and being disgusted by it, denying reality, hating everything, yet slowly coming to accept it. Dracula seeing what he used to be and ALSO being disgusted by it but learning to heal through Mathias. Dracula being everything Mathias despises, Mathias being everything Dracula rejected so long ago... all the DRAMA. All the POTENTIAL. AAAAAAA (also it's hot idc)

[matrose]

Hi! Idril and Celebrimbor for the ask game pls! :D

hi heather thank u so much 🫶❤️‼️‼️

Idril 💙

Sexuality Headcanon: sexuality as well as gender are so hard for me to define for almost any middle-earth character!! elves and dwarves especially! ive never really thought about idrils sexuality before but maybe bi…she has all the swag :)

Gender Headcanon: elf gender… elf gender!!! what is if even!! how does gender even matter if youre 7000 years old and youve been married for 4000 years. immortality seems to eventually remove most cultural need for gender / gender presentation doesnt it? and then what does it mean for idril (young!!) who married a human!! very fascinating. ive never thought more about this but shes more girl than other elves probably. just from the vibes

A ship I have with said character: i love her and tuor. and then both of them with voronwe!! i think she and voronwe could have a really interesting and sweet relationship! also, real quick abt voronwe, extremely gender of him to have a traditionally feminine name ending!!!!!

A BROTP I have with said character: she and glorfindel could be great friends aka her favorite babysitter growing up 🥺

A NOTP I have with said character: her and maeglin :/

A random headcanon: i love the headcanon of taking the silverfoot meaning of her name literally!! idril with prosthetics my beloved <3 shes also really great at strategy based boardgames (think similar to chess and the like) and can beat her grandpa 8/10 times!! also her short hair after her mothers passing 🥺

General Opinion over said character: i really really like her! shes so smart and endured so much in just her first few years of life… im happy she got away from the tragedy that shouldve gotten to her as an elf in love with a mortal ❤️ shes special to meee‼️

Celebrimbor 💚

Sexuality Headcanon: one of the few characters where i can pin it down actually. hes gay! 🎉

Gender Headcanon: hmm his gender is jewelsmith 💎

A ship I have with said character: i like him and narviiii 🥺 i am always weak for dwarf x elf relationships

A BROTP I have with said character: just in general i think the concept of him being born in beleriand + gil galad being born late in the first age + elrond all being pretty young and all being the sort of leading figures of the second age noldor is really funny. teenage government… though i like how rings of power have made him elronds weird uncle thats really funny :)

A NOTP I have with said character: difficult. i think silvergifting can be interesting if done right but its so evil and toxic and bad for celebrimbor i just sorta dont want him there. get out bestie!!!!

A random headcanon: narvi pierced his nose bridge. it looks very cool. and an evil one because im thinking about narvi still: sauron tried his best to shapeshift into narvi when celebrimbor was taken captive, for pain and torture reasons but he could never quite get it right. first the eyes. then the piercings were on the wrong side. no the hair was never that neatly brushed. the eyebrows are too thin right there. it drove sauron crazy so he eventually stopped trying and celebrimbor held onto that little victory all the way to mandos.

General Opinion over said character: i dont think about him enough! hes fascinating really

[saturdays--sun]

✍️🤪👯🌦️❤️☕️💘💌 for you and hermes!

YELLS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS HIM!!!!!!!!

✍️: overall, how does the fandom trait you? are you a beloved character, or hated? are you popular, or a minor side character? anything in between?

by nature of my insert being a part of the hermes familia, she's relegated to being a side character by default, unfortunately. that said, she has her moments where she's relevant and shows up fairly often (with or without hermes), so i like to think she'd have at least some number of fans. definitely a niche fave, though, to be sure.

generally, i think the fandom's opinion of her would be neutral or skewing slightly positive, though there's also... moments... i can imagine would turn some people off from her. the further on in the story you go, the more divisive i think she'd become.

🤪: what is your trait that fanon would exaggerate?

god. definitely how tsundere she is. it'd be played up and also beaten into the ground at the same time.

👯: what canon character are you most similar to?

fans would probably describe my insert as an unholy combination of lili and bete — meaning she's small and cute and is more than capable of being underhanded and sneaky, but also that she's extremely hotheaded and the loner type that doesn't play nice with others. the emotional constipation is also through the roof with her lmfao.

there are far deeper comparisons between myself and those two, though — the desperation to get out of a situation you're trapped in; the overwhelming need to be strong enough to not have to rely on others — but that's an essay for another day.

🌦️: would you be accompanied by mostly fluff or angst fanfics? both? explain why.

i think it'd be a combination of both, but that the number of angst fics would really increase as the story progresses and it becomes more apparent that hermes is... sort of an antagonist. 💀 lots of fics of my insert reflecting on what he's doing (oftentimes to people she cares about) and the fact that she's complacent in a lot of his plans, if not outright aiding in them. fics where she wonders if her devotion has become obligation and if she even wants to be following him anymore. that kind of thing. not to mention the whole immortal god x mortal that will eventually die thing, too.

there'd be plenty of fluff to offset it, though! 😤 plenty of fics of him returning home to my insert, my insert going with him when he travels, and tons where the plot is literally just "Hermes Flusters Koda Beyond Repair Part 14857" lmao

❤️: how popular is you x your f/o? are you a rarepair?

we're a rarepair only in the sense that the hermes familia isn't a huge focal point, so our on-screen scenes are fairly limited and most of our relationship is kept to the background. but of the people who have huge brains and do care about him / the familia / my insert, we're a huge otp. canon, even. 😤

☕️: what are the most common plots of shipping fics between you and your f/o?

i feel like lots of them would have to do with traveling — whether it be him leaving, him returning, or the odd one where my insert goes with him wherever he disappears off to. another common one would be ones that involve him breaking down my insert's walls, whether that be by way of flustering her until she threatens to kill him snaps or through rare, genuine moments between the two of them.

also plenty of ones where they just scheme together — fics that make it very clear why insert fits together so well with the infamously cunning and underhanded god of thieves and wit.

💘: why would people love your ship? why would people dislike your ship? wow might it start debates?

haha. oh boy.

i think the devotion aspect of our relationship — mostly on the end of my insert — would be the reason people would either really love or really hate us together. on the positive side, it's similar to the royal x devoted knight trope in the sense that, regardless of how low hermes stoops or what moderately to genuinely awful things he does, she still faithfully stays by his side, even if she personally disagrees with him or his methods because she loves him and he loves her back.

on the flip side, i can see a lot of people either misconstruing her as blindly following him or, less egregiously but still incorrectly, assuming that she stays with him because she cosigns everything he does. there's also the matter of my insert's backstory and the context in which she and hermes met and, by extension, ended up joining his familia which would probably lead to a number of people believing that she's only still with him out of obligation and that her feelings aren't real (or, if not that, then that they're not healthy). that last one would definitely be a point of contention between the people that ship us and the ones that don't.

💌: how would your dynamic be portrayed? what might people focus on most? any misconceptions?

i mean, the obvious one is god x faithful follower, but that's nowhere near the true depth of it. i think that would undercut a lot of other dynamics we fall into that people would focus on, though — that, alongside the tsundere x one who gets off on teasing them thing we have going on. those would be the main ones, i think.

not necessarily a dynamic thing, but people would definitely make the misconception that my insert just enables everything he does and never questions or disagrees with him, which is just. blatantly false. 💀

[hematomes]

@kkomaism you liking this ship is just yet another confirmation that it's so fucking good quakes and quivers

Okay so. I've seen a lot of people being rightfully worried that their relationship, on a romantic level, would be abusive. This generally comes from the one cutscene that links them, where Dan Heng wakes up stressed from a nightmare featuring Blade. Their lore is kind of hidden and scattered (typical hoyoverse move), so if you stop at that it's fully understandable.

The enemies to lovers trope in popular fandoms (and from my experience on ao3, so the sample is biased I'll concede that) has been watered down to what I'd rather call "rivals to lovers". It just features some banter and rivalry, but totally skims over the enemies part. This is a common phenomenon, it's often the case with tropes and tags that get deformed by popular use (like the dead dove tag becoming a vague warning for sensitive content).

But renheng, in my opinion, brings it back and makes it even more interesting by tackling on the "lovers to enemies" side. Lorewise, that's where they are: former lovers who are now enemies. And Dan Heng has in fact killed Blade multiple times, to no avail (immortality and whatnot). Now Blade is actually hunting down the poor guy, and when you really think about it, it all depends on interpretation, but needs to rely on canon material.

The idea that Dan Heng is traumatized by Blade is a legitimate one on a surface level, but it kind of falls apart once you look at the lore. He's not traumatized by Blade but by what he (Dan Heng) has done, which involved Blade. It's not just fear, it's guilt, and that distinction is what it all falls down to. Likewise, Blade isn't just fueled by hatred, but rather by the pain of betrayal, especially from his "bosom friend" (like I said a while ago, outdated term for lovers). It's also important to understand Blade's pain, as immortality was inflicted on him and turned him into a monstrosity, not only to his eyes but probably to the entire Xianzhou Alliance. Considering he was Dan Heng's partner and may have been on the same group as him, Jing Yuan and Yukong (I can't find the picture where you see all of them arg), it's probably what destroyed him.

Ultimately I see it that way: Dan Heng has lost his memories and doesn't understand why 1. he's feeling so much guilt towards Blade and 2. he's hunted down by Blade. There's also the fact that he still wears the bracer, which could be how Blade keeps finding him.

We could wonder why Dan Heng doesn't take it off, and there's a few possibilities in my opinion (but these are just theories at this point): 1. just a coincidence, unlikely or 2. way more interesting, he has this visceral need to keep it on, without really understanding. This one takes two routes as well: is it out of love, or out of (again) guilt? Is it him unconsciously letting Blade find him because he thinks he deserves this endless punishment? The fact that he'd do it unconsciously makes me even more feral because it'd be ingrained in his system, like this is his life, this is how he makes amends but no matter how many times it happens it's not enough.

Final thought on this whole thing: we don't know for sure whether the "beloved" that was turned into a monstrosity by Dan Heng (= immortality, etc) is Blade or not, but let's take it as a fact just for this one, because I have yet another theory, and it falls into one of my favorite tropes so indulge me for a second. There's a side quest where an NPC mentions how mortal x immortal/long-lived beings relationships are impossible, due to the life expectancy differences. So picture Dan Heng making Blade immortal as a desperate attempt to keep him by his side, even if it means being exiled and considered a sinner by his closest friends, his siblings in arms. I don't know for how long he's known the others, but throwing all of that away for a mere mortal is a proof of devotion that grabs me by the throat and shakes until my neck snaps in half.

I'm keeping it as spoiler-free as I can, but as soon as their story develops I'll come back because I have more thoughts about how it'll unfold and I'll need to expend on that final thought because it goes even deeper than what we know for now.

would anyone be interested in a renheng in depth "analysis" from an actual lovers to enemies to lovers point of view that focuses on the trope and how it can be beautifully written and interpreted. im mentally ill about them again

[archonadeptus]

Genshin Impact Masterlist

Requesting Rules & Information

About the writer

Masterlist Navigation

Sereniteapot Builds

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Creator!Reader

A Simple Dream. - Genshin Impact x Creator Reader. (Mainly Venti, Zhongli and Xiao mentioned.)

You awake within Genshin Impact, only for your favourite Characters to refer to you as their creator and for their undying loyalty to lay with you.

Sign Here♡. - Genshin Impact x Creator Reader (Zhongli & Xiao)

Finally reaching Zhongli and Xiao, you all make a contract between one another for love and protection. They are utterly devoted to you.

Serenitea pot - Introducing Tighnari - Genshin Impact x Creator reader. (Tighnari, Kazuha, Thoma, Ajax, Zhongli & Xiao)

As the Divine Creator, you've just finished creating Sumeru and have brought back Tighnari to introduce him to your other acolytes in your teapot.

Sleepy Anxiety - Genshin Impact x Creator reader. (Mainly Tighnari, but Kazuha, Thoma, Ajax, Zhongli & Xiao are mentioned.)

Despite waking up within the arms of those you adore, anxiety seems to claw at your heart. Where's the medicine Albedo made fir you? Luckily, Tighnari sees that something is off.

Swayed Nightmares - Genshin Impact x Creator Reader. (Tighnari and Kazuha, brief mentions of others. Bonus Zhongli and Childe at the end.)

You awaken from a horrid nightmare about your beloved acolytes hunting you down. Thankfully, Tighnari and Kazuha are there to help you.

Vivid Loss - Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader (Hu Tao & Tartaglia.)

You're having bad nightmares about your previous life, thankfully your devoted acolytes overhear and come to your rescue.

Winters Bird Cage - Fatui Harbingers x Creator!Reader

Awakening in your newly mortal form, you open your eyes to see the bitter cold of Snezhnaya. Thinking you'd have to make your own way to somebody, you see a group of Harbingers heading toward you. Oh Divine Creator, don't you know how devoted they are to you?

Call for us - Genshin Impact x Anxious!Creator!Reader (Xiao, Kazuha, Heizou, Albedo & Zhongli)

Anxiety attacks... You shouldn't deal with those alone. You know it's okay to call for them right?

Sickness and Health - Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader (Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao Kazuha, Albedo mentioned.)

Falling ill as the creator in a mortal body felt horrendous. Thankfully, your devoted beloved acolytes are there to assist you and care for you.

Control - Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader (Kazuha, Tighnari, Wanderer, Xiao, Zhongli.)

Killing your own beloved acolytes was a form of torture you had never seen coming nor ever anticipated in the past. Can you be freed from this dreadful dream realm?

My Golden Flower - Pantalone x Isekai!Reader (Coming Soon.)

You get isekaied into a dying NPC body. You ultimately choose to settle down in the countryside and live what final days you have in Teyvat peacefully. Days though that become low with mora are worth fighting for. But do you know what goes well with Mora? Pantalone.

Freshly baked fairytail - Genshin Impact x Creator!Reader ( Coming Soon.)

Fairytails of a magical bakery are popular all throughout Teyvat. Only the children and Albedo know that this is true and you, their creator run this bakery. Your favourite characters are your customers, I wonder if they figure out its true?

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Ship Fics

Light of Kshahrewar - Alhaitham x Kaveh

An argument after a bad day is normal, but today? Today its a little too much and it results in a bigger communication breakdown than inticipated.

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Yae Publishing House

Love and Power (I)

A popular story in Inazuma containing truths to a long told tale of love between an Illuminated beast and a supposed Allogene. (Ocs Riku and Makoto telling a tale of love between Alatus (Xiao) and Aether.

Xiao

Call my name. - "Xiao, will you keep me safe? I just feel a little anxious is all…"

A smaller you. - Xiao, Scaramouche, Albedo & Venti with a smaller s/o.

Meetings with Immortality. - Xiao & Venti (separate).

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Kazuha

A letter to you

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Albedo

Glowing Eternity. - "Albedo... Do you love me?"

A smaller you. - Xiao, Scaramouche, Albedo & Venti with a smaller s/o.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Thoma

Supporting Smiles. - "Thoma! Let me put a smile on your face?"

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Venti

A smaller you. - Xiao, Scaramouche, Albedo & Venti with a smaller s/o.

Meetings with Immortality. - Xiao & Venti (separate).

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Scaramouche

A smaller you. - Xiao, Scaramouche, Albedo & Venti with a smaller s/o.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Bennet

Archons path.

Bennet and you end up facing your scary seeming abilities together.

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[skaikruswan]

OMG I LOVE YOUR FICS!!! The Meowpheus ones are my favorites!!!

Anyhoo, I would like to request a slightly angsty Morpheus x reader fic. The reader becomes gravely ill after Desire slipped something in their tea, so everyone in The Dreaming begins to look for a cure. Meanwhile, Morpheus stays by his lovers side and remembers all their firsts (I like to imagine Morpheus being with a hothead so maybe their first kiss is after a heated argument). And at the end, once they are cured, Morpheus asks Death to grant his lover immortality.

A poison without a cure

WC: 2k Ao3

Relationship: Morpheus x reader

Notes: multiple POV, worried Morpheus, angst with a happy ending

Dear anon, this prompt was super intriguing, and I hope I did it justice! Sorry for the long wait.

If you liked this story, i have written others.

“Next time, I’ll draw blood.” Desire of the Endless has not forgotten their promise to Dream. The King of Dreams and Nightmares, unfortunately, has prevailed, seeing right through the scheme. He’s still as aloof and arrogant as ever. Oh, how they long to bring Dream to his knees. 

Fortune seems to favor Desire, and Cupid seems to handle him the perfect weapon. His dear sibling has managed to lose his heart to a human, a perfect target. Their beloved twin, Despair, had decided not to participate. 

“While Dream’s despair would taste divine, it wouldn’t justify his limitless wrath,” Despair decided, leaving Desire to their own devices. No matter. They shall enjoy their sole triumph.

Desire cackles in their chamber. Love is the purest and most destructive form of desire. It will be the perfect arrow to pierce Dream’s heart. 

                ----------------------------

Mortals are so easy to manipulate, and you were no challenge. Strolling through the crowded supermarket, Desire simply dropped the box of tea bags into your shopping basket.

The tea, called sweet Dreams, a bouquet of lavender and chamomile, promised a soothing rest. Irony at its finest. 

Now all Desire has to is wait. 

------------------------------

You don’t consider yourself to be an overly sporty person, but you still like to work out here and then. Besides, one can always try a new form of exercise. Sometimes even 5 minutes count. 

The pain comes out of nowhere. You’re on your way home when a hand seems to squeeze your lungs, erasing every air you have inside your body. 

You gasp before taking a deep breath, almost keeling over, resting your shaky hands on your knees. 

Your breaths become shallow and rapid, and it only improves a little. You know that there are some crazy diseases, but what the hell could make your lungs suddenly fail like that?

You’re almost home. You can make it. You don’t need to call an ambulance, at least not yet. This is your body, and you are still the captain of this ship. You won’t go down. 

You take a step forward and it feels as if you’re stepping on ice. Your lungs still feel on fire, but you take a breath and feel air reach you once more. 

You can do this. You will get home, go to bed, and maybe ask Morpheus for an extra good rest; the perks of having Dream of the Endless as your boyfriend. 

              -----------------------------

You find yourself inside the Dreaming, and yet the pressure on your lungs remains. It is not as intense as in real life, but enough to make your stomach churn with worry. 

Ugh; you’re having a stomachache in your dreams! Maybe your subconsciousness is so busy processing this weird pain that it decides to continue so in your sleep, fully replicating it. 

Fiddlers’ Green is one of your favorite spots, and the sweet and clear air feels like a balm for your lungs. 

You gently lie down on the soft grass and take deep breaths. Your eyes closed, you hear rather than see Morpheus approach, and you almost feel the blades of grass next to you bend and tickle your skin as he sits down next to you. 

“My love.” Morpheus’ voice always makes you tingle inside. You could spend dreams simply listening to you. He could read the phone book to you, and you would still listen. 

“My lord.” When you first met him, Morpheus had hated being called like that, but in the end, he accepted it as a term of endearment. 

You open your eyes and see a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you, affection twinkling like stars in the blue sky of his eyes. 

“Do you have any wish for this dream?” Morpheus asks, and usually you would love to take a chance and explore the limits of the Dreaming with Morpheus, to do something that gets your blood pumping, but in hindsight, you should take it easy today. 

“I am sorry, but I am only running on 90 percent right now,” you tease. You don’t want to worry Morpheus. You’ll be fine tomorrow.  “Let’s just stay here and relax.” 

“As you wish.” 

                           ------------------------------

His love is dying. Morpheus is no stranger to death. Humans are mortal, finite, and even the brightest of them burn up in the end. His sister will guide them to the Sunless Lands. But it is not your time yet. 

Morpheus had his suspicions when you chose a calm rest instead of a thrill. You live life to the fullest, and your dreams are no exception. You are a whirlwind of energy and joy, but now the fire inside of you is extinguishing. 

No mortal is able to give you a proper diagnose, much less a cure. Doctors speak of multiple organ failure, of confusing and contradicting test results. Nobody can explain why your body inevitably shuts down. 

Every day you wake up is a miracle, and every night you return to the Dreaming is a gift. You’re exhausted even inside the Dreaming, the illness trespassing into his realm. This had been the first indication that you’ve caught no normal disease, but something unhuman and supernatural. 

You made an inviting target for every entity or deity who may want to cause him harm, but Morpheus had regained his strength and thought that even his most greedy and power-hungry enemies would see the futility of incensing him, and that they would refrain from stooping so low and target a human when they wanted to hurt him. Whoever caused you this harm will beg for mercy once Morpheus has caught him. An eternity of nightmares and pain awaits them. 

Morpheus reaches down to let his fingers caress the soft lines of your face, watching as your chest rises and falls with every labored breath. You’re unnaturally pale and your features are sharper than before.

You’re resting inside his chambers, and he welcomes the knock on his door. Before him stands Lucienne, holding several files, written in her impeccable handwriting, in her hands. 

“My lord, I have continued my research, and I think I have managed to narrow down the source of the disease,” Lucienne announces, a flash of pride in her dark eyes, and Morpheus reaches for her notes. 

“I will read them. Thank you, Lucienne.” Morpheus inclines his head, letting the librarian know how much he values her efforts. 

“You may continue and use any resources as you see fit.” Every dream and nightmare not needed in the dreams of the humans are participating in the search for your cure. Matthew is keeping an eye on you in the waking world, informing him of every change in behavior. Fiddler’s Green is focusing on healing plants, which are then used by Cain and Abel to produce remedies. Abel even suggested to let Cain poison him to see if he would develop the same symptoms than you did. 

Morpheus feels a sharp ache in his chest as he looks at your resting form. His spitfire, burning high and not afraid to confront him. He remembers their first kiss. Despite several warnings, you had not backed down, had stood your ground while in an argument with him. The topic seemed so irrelevant right now. Your eyes had shone with righteous fury, your fists clenched as you snarled your reasons at him. 

It had been in the heat of the moment that he felt your lips press against his, stealing his ire, his breath, and a chuckle as he seemed to melt under your affectionate touch.

“I think we settled the argument,” you had cheekily replied afterwards, your thumb stroking his jaw. This wouldn’t be the first time you decided to enrage and engage him, fueling his infuriation with your sharp tongue and fiery heart. 

“Come back to me, my love.”

                  ---------------------------------

You’re close to death. Life barely clings to you, and you feel it peel off every day. Seeing Morpheus fall into despair, rage, and hopelessness hurt more than the agony of your body betraying you. 

You’re so exhausted that it has become hard to distinguish the waking world from the Dreaming. All you know is that Morpheus is kneeling next to you, an almost feverish expression on his face. 

“My love, you must drink this,” he urges, his hand gently holding the back of your neck as he carefully drips a liquid into your mouth. 

At first, nothing happens, before your world and your body are torn asunder. 

                  --------------------------------

Days, weeks, months; everything blends together while you push yourself away from the brink of breath. Recovery is a slow process, and Morpheus is beside you. 

When you finally manage to run again, you launch yourself into his arms, giggling as he wraps his arms around you and spins you around like in a fairy tale. 

“Never again,” Morpheus whispers into the crook of your neck, holding you close, and you can’t help but raise your shoulders in defense. “Never again do I want to feel the agony of losing you.” 

You wish you could comfort him, but the words remain at the tip of your tongue. You’re human, and he’s endless. He will live on, while you won’t. 

Instead, you hold on and don’t let go. 

                  --------------------------------------

Death is waiting for him, sitting on a bench, humming a sweet tune as she observes the humans around her. 

“My sister,” Morpheus greets her, sitting down next to her. This is no ordinary visit, and they both know it. 

“My brother,” Death replies, a knowing smirk on her lips. For a moment, sorrow flickers in her eyes, and Morpheus follows her line of sight to a young boy, who’s been stung by a bee, falling to the ground under the cries and of his family. 

Feathers ruffle and Morpheus waits. How close had his sister been to his love? Would she have forewarned him? 

Death returns and Morpheus clears his throat. This is no simple request but the yearning of his heart, his soul laid bare in front of his favorite sibling. 

“Once, you’ve granted immortality freely, giving it to the man who would become a dear friend to me.” Hob had become a constant in his endless life, and Morpheus can admit that he hadn’t always been the most agreeable companion. 

“I want to ask you to grant immortality to the person I want to love and cherish forever,” Morpheus says, refusing to meet Death’s gaze. He can’t even fathom what he would do if his sister denied his request. 

A soft hand covers his and Death squeezes once, capturing his attention. 

“Little brother, I cannot make this choice, and neither can you. I can offer the same gamble, no more and no less,” Death explains, and Morpheus presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

                   -------------------------------

“I’ll never die as long as I want to stay alive?” you say, head tilted in confusion as you look at the beautiful dark-skinned woman next to Morpheus – his sister, Death. A shiver creeps down your spine while you wonder how close you had been to actually meeting her. 

“Yes. You must wish to never die. You won’t age, but you will remain human, experience hunger and thirst and require sleep,” Death explains, her voice just as enchanting as her brother’s, but holding a warmer note. Morpheus had brought her to your home, and he had remained silent for most of her conversation. 

“Becoming more or less an immortal in the 21st century won’t be easy, but the things you do for love,” you let out a dramatic sigh before wrapping your arms around Morpheus’ neck, pulling his head down as you give him a deep, passionate kiss. 

“Never change, spitfire,” Morpheus says as you release his lips to take a breath, before pressing his forehead against yours. 

You have eternity with Morpheus. What else could you desire? 

[raazberry]

codependent immortal x mortal ships my beloved

something about the immortal one fighting tooth and nail for the world to just let them die so that they won't have to live in a world without their lover

or the other way around, the mortal doing everything they can and even destroying themselves in order to find a way to become immortal or at the very least extend their lifespan so that they can be with the one they live forever

bonus points if the immortal one tries to stop them from doing this to themselves because they know that immortality is a curse, having lived with it for so long

[incorrectdaedra]

Alright I'm going to preface this by saying this isn't my ship and I personally prefer them as having sibling energy, but I do think I understand the ship and that it can be neat.

First of all, the [super logical] x [unpredictable force of nature] ship dynamic is just generally beloved. People want their calm blorbos to babysit their unhinged blorbos and then kiss. They just do. Bonus points if the calm one is actually just as batshit crazy as the unhinged one in their own way, and —guess what— Jyggy is arguably just as crazy as Sheo is. Flawless order is crazy. So now our ship is [loud crazy] x [quiet crazy] which is GREAT.

Let's add this to the lovely bit of angst that the Greymarch provides. The two of them were alone in that conflict for so long that most forgot there were two of them at all. And despite fighting each other for all those millennia, the truth is that each of them is the only one who can understand what the other has gone through. When haunted by memories of the Greymarch, they could seek comfort in one another, or, even better, the Greymarch could return and force them to fight again after they learn to appreciate one another. Beyond that, this can also be an OC ship depending on how you handle it. This relationship could be a strange continuation of the HoK x Sheogorath ship. Maybe they try to make it work even as they lose their former selves.

There is also a lot of fun to be had with their spheres. Chaos and order MUST coexist regularly for the world to function. There are some places where this is more obvious than others, and a lot of them are known for their wonder and beauty. The first thing that comes to mind is music. Jyggalag has some lore in books littering the Shivering Isles that suggest he has connections to singing, and Sheogorath, of course, invented musical instruments so that mortals could sound as beautiful as birdsong. Music needs structure and creativity together in order to be anything. I think a mortal would be wise to pray to both of them for help if they sought daedric assistance for a song. My point here is, Sheo and Jygg could collaborate on a lot of things that are already wonderful to us.

They're also a potentially terrifying power couple. The one who can predict and calculate absolutely everything paired with the one who cannot be predicted by absolutely anyone? That's going to kick someone's ass. And they both have grudges against the same certain 15 immortal entities, so they can even easily agree on a target.

Tldr this isn't my ship but SheoJygg has great potential for shitposting, angst, and lore implications, and also together they'd be overpowered as hell.

Alright, obviously I will be voting for my OTP Blorbos no matter what, but... I would love to hear some arguments in favor of Sheo/Jyggalag.

Please, convince me as to what could make this ship cool and meaningful. Genuinely. I want to know. I want to hear thoughts and arguments. I want to be on board. Tesblr explain.

[magebastard]

ship: det. dana burke x ava du mortain

wc: 516

notes: the mortality discussion I should not have watched the good place before writing this ava i know it is ur birthday im so srry

At the end of every conversation she has with herself—with her therapist, her psychiatrist and her Agency prescribed counselor—it comes back to X.

Ava is X.

The pursuit of practical immortality is pursuit of inconceivable oblivion. There are variables and probabilities and possibilities that no one can account for. It’s the gaping maw; it’s terrifying.

Dana would not be alone. There is sense memory of Ava’s strong and soft hands gripped around hers wherever she is, however far apart they are. She is not alone. Could never be.

They have a home, a life. A house with a lawn. They sit in the sun and Dana holds tight to the gift of Ava’s smile, every day.

They work together. They’re a team. Always, always, they are a unit. Nat and Mason and Farah are family and watching their lives bloom into peace has given Dana no small amount of joy. And yet. And yet.

“I can’t,” she heaves around the lump in her throat. “Ava, I’m sorry.”

Firm arms tighten around her. What could she say?

It feels wrong, denying eternity on their couch in their living room. It feels wrong that sunlight still pours in through the window.

“I love you, you know that? I’ll spend my life loving you. It’s so much; I know I’m committing to being just a moment—fleeting, but-“

“Stop.”

Dana draws a sharp, shaking breath. Ava starts and stops herself from saying—potentially, anything. Her grip alternates between something loose and something just beyond secure, as though she’s wary of holding on too tight. She processes. Dana falls apart in her arms.

A long time passes before she speaks again. Her hands flex and twitch where they rest. Ava steadies herself before the hurricane beating against her ribs.

“We have time,” though she cannot hide the way her voice trembles.

It’s a long night.

They’re silent and rigid but they wipe away tears, and they kiss—they keep kissing. They kiss fingers, cheeks, lips, enough to make up for time they haven’t lost yet.

Ava is not in bed when Dana wakes the next morning.

In her place there is a note. A page folded over, neat and beloved script; ‘To my wife’.

She delicately smoothes out the sheet of paper, eyes already beginning to burn.

Dana,

I have gone to work, earlier than I should have. It’s all I could think to do. You know this of me.

I am not gifted with saying the right thing at the right time as you—or Nat. You know this.

Bear with me, as I muddle through.

You are far from fleeting, Dana. You are forever. Whether you are here or not, my heart will reach for yours. Loving you has made me someone new.

I’ll have to be someone new, again. That is what being alive for so long has meant. It will be different. Even as it all feels unchanging, I still must learn. I learned to be loved, deeply, from you. Every time I feel loved; truly loved and cared for, Dana, I will feel you. With me.

I will stay with you. You inspire my heart and my loyalty and I will stay with you as you have stayed with me. Whoever I will be, I will love you.

We have time.

Yours,

Ava

[ahopelessromanticwritersworld]

This is my extremely late fic for the Secret Santa exchange for @flightlessangelwings!!!

I’m excited for you to read this, and I really hope you like it!! I have a second part planned for this, so that is in the works!

This was inspired by @softpedropascal’s own pirate!Pero! AU, and I highly recommend everyone go check it and all of her work out! Everything she writes is *chef’s kiss* magnificent!!

Thank you so much for your patience! 💙💙💙

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

Warnings: blood, violence, maritime action, lack of maritime knowledge, lots of Spanish in places

Ángel de la Muerte

As Pero felt the warm blood of his blade’s latest victim, he closed his eyes for a brief second. In that time, he prayed that perhaps today, of all days, would be the day that he finds the answers he was searching for. The man that he had just struck down had also been the last man that had taken part in taking you aboard a rival captain’s ship.

Pero had discovered your kidnapping when he stopped at your home city’s harbor and went to call upon you. When he arrived, what he found was utter destruction. Your door had marks in it as though someone had tried to axe their way through. All your furniture was overturned and thrown about the room. It was obvious that someone had either broken in recently, and you hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet, or…

Pero still shudders when he remembers his reaction to the second, more likely scenario as to why your home was in such disarray. He roared with a primal rage so unlike anything he had ever felt; not even the overwhelming adrenaline of a raging battle upon the sea got him this worked up.

After quickly interrogating your neighbors and learning some of the men’s names who had stolen you away as well as the name of the capitán they served under and the ship they had sailed away upon. He also learned that at least a week had passed since you had been taken, which felt as though someone had driven their sword through Pero’s chest, making his heart stutter and his breathing falter.

Now knowing that he was already working with a disadvantage for catching up to you and the dead men currently awaiting their visit from La Parca, Pero quickly made his way back to the docks and his ship, Ángel de la Muerte.

Pero was proud of his crew that they were able to mobilize so quickly; he couldn’t care less if it was because they feared him and his reputation, or if it was due to the fact that you took such good care of their capitán and they feared for what might happen to them if you were not around him any more. He was able to quickly set a course based on reports given to him by other seamen he trusted in the harbor who saw the rival pirates set off with you.

Pero was loath to admit it, but this rival capitán knew how to make it difficult to track himself down. Pero and his men were still searching for you, and it had been about two months since you had been taken.

At each port they stopped in, they gleaned another vital clue, whether it was a direction of travel or the name of one the men that had taken you. But it seemed as though each clue was smoke in the air: helpful right when he got it, but utterly useless when he began tracking again. The longer they searched, the more desperate Pero became because he refused to consider a world without you in it.

So whenever he or his men tracked down a lead, Pero had his second in command, William, write it down in a book to return to when plotting the next leg of their journey. That way, La Parca would have a ledger of all the men that had had any part to play in daring to steal away his tesoro and strike them down.

Finally, after four months of searching, he and his men were able to catch up to this rival’s ship. Pero was unable to stop the crooked smile emerging on his lips as he thought with glee of how he would cut these men down before coming to you with the blood from the dead men still warm on his face.

He was able to send a cabin boy to deliver his personal message to the capitán.

It read: “You have something that I want. You may think you have an idea of what you have in your possession aboard your ship, but I assure you that you do not. She will soon be back with me. She means more to me than you will ever know. You will not live long enough to rue the day that you crossed La Parca because I will kill you and every single man who touched a hair on her head. You may think you can flee, but know this: no man can escape La Parca.”

At first, Pero was sure that his reputation would ensure that the crew surrendered to him, but the longer they took to respond, the more his hackles rose. Then, the man on lookout called out because he saw them preparing to sail off as well as preparing their cannons. This made Pero and William share a quick glance. They both had no doubts that Ángel de la Muerte would emerge triumphant, but if they were forced to engage in cannonfire, there was no way to ensure your safety.

And this made the two men extremely uneasy.

Pero barked out the order to go after the ship, with his blood beginning to boil the longer he gave chase with you so close yet so far away from him. However, before Pero could engage in battle with this cobarde, the ship was pulled into a scuffle with a British Navy vessel.

Pero could only watch in horror as his rival’s ship was battered beyond belief by cannonfire, and his hope that you would escape unscathed dwindled to a quiet flame burning in his chest. Before his eyes, he watched as the ship was scuttled, and the victors began to sail away.

As Ángel de la Muerte made its way to the wreckage, Pero scanned his eyes among the flotsam for any signs of you. The longer he searched, the more he realized that you might not be alive. That didn’t stop him from desperately calling out for you as he and his crew continued searching for any sign of you. But when he came to that wrenching conclusion, Pero began to feel desperation and disbelief warring within himself.

There couldn’t exist a world where you did not live. Absolutely not! If you, his tesoro, had passed into the next realm without La Parca at your side, he would drag himself to the depths of el infierno and demand that you be returned to his side. And if he couldn’t bring you back to the living, he would demand from whatever immortal being he had to to strike him down. If only so that he could then join you in the after life.

Then, he could once again pull you into his arms, breathe in your sweet scent that was ambrosia to him, and reassure his sweet princesa and himself that you were really there, that you were safe and that there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to ensure your safety.

But right now, as William gave him a look and a subtle shake of his head, he had to come to terms with the fact that all souls were lost on this ship.

Now Pero gasped for air as his grief drove into him and made him feel as though his worst enemy had driven their sword through his chest. How was he to go on without his tesoro? You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now he was to accept that you were gone? NEVER!! He would never, in a hundred years, accept that you were gone.

Pero Tovar, capitán of Ángel de la Muerte vowed to all the gods listening that he would scour the ends of the earth and all the seas to find anything to bring you back to him, or he would die trying. And at the moment, he didn’t have a preference for either outcome. All he knew was both ways would eventually lead him to be reunited with you. Whether in this realm or the next, he didn’t care.

Pero glared up at the heavens, where he knew that his tesoro would be temporarily residing, if you had indeed left this mortal coil. He knew what he now had to do. He would track down a relic that he had heard only whispers about, a stone that was said to return the dead to life. And if it worked as it was rumored to, the stone would restore you so that it would be as if you had never left this world at all.

The groans from the man wounded at his feet brought Pero out of his reminiscing. For three years now, Pero had been searching for this stone that could revive his princesa, his tesoro and return her from muerte’s icy clutch. Before his personal quest began, he would have scoffed at such talk surrounding a mystical object; however, now he prayed that all the stories about this resurrection stone were true so that he could be reunited with his estrella, his North Star that served as a beacon to bring him home, no matter how far apart they were.

He barely spared a glance at the man lower than a barnacle in his eyes as William came up to him.

“My friend, look what he had in his cabin.” He opened up a journal, which had maps and scribbling in it.

“From his writing, it looks as though he and his crew lost something or someone valuable three years ago in Port Royal.”

Pero’s eyes slowly rose from the pitiful bottom-feeder to William.

“That could possibly be your beloved, amigo.”

Yes, Pero thought, I’m not an idiot. As soon as he realized that he might have gotten the biggest possible lead in his quest to be reunited with you, Pero crouched down so that he could be eye level to the scum.

“You will tell me what I want to know, then I will decide whether or not I should kill you. But if you dare to play me for a fool, I will take great pleasure in killing you so slowly that you shall be begging La Parca and Ángel de la Muerte to come visit you.”

The man whimpered, but did little else.

“What exactly did you lose at Port Royal?”

It seemed to take a great effort out of him, but the man finally wheezed out “a woman.

The captain wanted her, so we stole her away.”

“Where did you steal this poor, unfortunate woman away from?” Pero had to fight to keep his stoic composure in place when the man breathed out the name of the port city you used to call home.

“And did any one of your men or even you yourself touch her after stealing her away?”

“Never! I swear to God!”

Pero now felt that small, flickering flame of hope he had been nursing within himself for three years begin to grow warmer. However, before he could indulge in the heat emanating from this renewed sense of hope, he had to deal with the situation at hand.

Now that he had no use for the man, he quickly drew his dagger.

“Thank you for being so helpful.”

At first, the cobarde relaxed as though he honestly thought that Pero would allow him to live after admitting to such crimes against the capitán’s woman.

“But you see, you dared to harm mi princesa, mi preciosa tesoro.”

The man tried to move away, his eyes widened in fear. Pero’s hand coming down hard upon his shoulder prevented the scum from moving any further away.

“And for that, for touching what wasn’t yours, for stealing something away from La Parca, you must pay. For situations such as this, only one payment will satisfy this debt. A life for a life.”

Now this pathetic excuse of a man was begging for his life before Pero’s own eyes, and while he might have had some sympathy toward his fellow pirates since the harsher crackdowns by sanctioned ships in any other case, Pero was nowhere near ready to allow one of the brutes who stole away his tesoro to remain on this mortal shell.

Pero swiped his hand out and drew his dagger quickly across the scum’s throat. As the man began gurgling and choking on his own blood, Pero wiped the blood off on the man’s shirt and rose, keeping his eyes on the dying man in front of him.

It seemed an age, but the cobarde finally died and not a minute too soon. Perhaps that was only because Pero was so eager to see the demise of the man in front of him. As soon as he saw the light leave the man’s eyes, he turned to face William once more.

“Come, amigo, we must make our way to Port Royal.”

With that, the two comrades clasped their hands on each other’s shoulders before heading back to Ángel de la Muerte. Without another glance backward, Pero barked out orders to his men to throw the body overboard and feed it to the sharks.

As the ship changed course to begin making her way to Port Royal, Pero slowly climbed the stairs to the helm to overlook the crew working to ensure that they set sail as quickly as they could. He watched for a minute or two before he went to the railings and pulled out the chain that had resided around his neck for almost four years now.

A locket that had been caressed so many times by Pero’s fingers that he had worn the metal smooth over time hung at the bottom. Pero rubbed his fingers over it once more, knowing that a lock of your hair also resided inside but not daring to chance opening the locket for fear that a strong gust of wind would sweep the precious gift away from him.

Opposite your hair in the locket was a cameo as well, to aid the memory when he was away at sea, the shopkeeper had advertised. Pero had scoffed, as if he would ever require assistance to remember your stunning visage. But now that he hadn’t gazed upon your beauty for years, he was eternally grateful you had talked him into the luxurious purchase all those years ago.

Next to the locket hung the ring he had purchased with the hope of placing on your finger one day. And with this latest clue, Pero had renewed hope that this ring would soon make a home upon your hand. He raised the locket and ring to his lips and placed a reverent kiss on both before looking out at the sea once more.

“Te extraño, mi tesoro. Espero verte pronto. Te amo, mi amor.”

Translations:

1. capitán- captain

2. Ángel de la Muerte- Angel of Death

3. La Parca- the Grim Reaper

4. tesoro- treasure

5. cobarde- coward

6. el infierno- Hell

7. princesa- princess

8. muerte- death

9. estrella- star

10. amigo- friend

11. mi princesa- my princess

12. mi preciosa tesoro- my precious treasure

13. Te extraño, mi tesoro. Espero verte pronto. Te amo, mi amor.- I miss you, my treasure. I hope I will see you soon. I love you, my love.

Tagging people I think may be interested: @gamingaquarius @miraclemoreno @absurdthirst @scribbledghost @aerynwrites @storiesofthefandomlovers @f0rever15elf @cinewhore @softpedropascal @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @flightlessangelwings @hopelikethemoon @jawabear

[nocompromise-noregrets]

23, 22 and 13?

Thank you! <33333

23. Favourite Found Family to read about?: The Fellowship :D The Avengers, from that lovely just-post-the-2012-movie period when everyone wrote them all living in Stark Tower and becoming ride-or-die for each other. The X-Men, oh my GOD. Any number of the-team-is-a-family TV shows... :D

22. Rarest rarepair you ship and wish there was fanfics for?: ahahahaha, my beloved canoe Legolas/Imrahil. There are fics, but not many, and a large proportion of them were written by me. XD

13. Share a Fic Idea you want to read but can’t write: oooh, I don't know. I'd say any of the ideas I had last year, but I've actually realised I can write them all, and have done so (although finishing them is another matter). The only one I have that I haven't written yet is the one about the Twins coming to terms with making their choice between mortality and immortality after the War of the Ring, and that one is going to happen, I just...haven't got round to starting it yet XD hmmmm...I can't think of anything else!

Thank you for asking! :D Anyone else want to bung me an ask about fic stuff? :D :D :D

[ot-hoe-me]

About Sophie's 10 Wishes - understandable, the thing that was kept secret shouldn't have been a secret for that long. I don't agree with how that was handled at all.

Seduced By The Rhythm I thought was okay, the competition parts were fun but the sister relationship system in book 3 was a bit annoying to me and overall I felt pretty ambivalent about the LIs as datable characters and enjoyed them more as teammates and friends. Orlando made me want to smack him though lol.

And Ough. Amrit. Yes. Normally I love the soulmate trope, and I do really like Amrit as a character, but on a personal level he annoys me so much. Like the arrogance is *somewhat* justified and the distrust is *definitely* justified, him continuing to call Amala wife or fiancée (yes I know he continued to call her that to purposely annoy/antagonize her and it sure did work on me!!) or whatever after he's been rejected drove me nuts lmao like give it a rest. You know you're hot shit and have the pick of literally anyone else, so get over it already. You were intrigued over an idea and not Amala herself (Obviously this grows into real love for who she is on his route but I digress. Also, I understand that her not falling to her feet to please him is part of her appeal to him too though.) I'm also not a fan of the bickering/fiery couple trope either.

So yeah, it's Ratan for me I love the immortal x mortal, immortal falls in love for the first time, and immortal gives up eternal life to be with their mortal beloved tropes a whole lot. Plus he's always respectful, and actually accepts her friendship with Killian and Lima. Plus his epilogue with Amala on the Rage of the Goddess path is so cute. 🥰❤️✨ And of course all their other romance moments are A+ for me.

We both know why we love Liam and Selena and why~

I do also love Shadows of Saintfour, pretty much the only piece of horror media I wholeheartedly enjoy. I do like Aaron and did a playthrough with him, Luke and Derek make the most narrative sense and I do like them so I liked their routes, though my favourite was actually John/William. I didn't like that we could only save Luke if we were dating or broke up at the very last second and not also if you only took all the friend options. I wish Stephanie got more character development so I could like her more. I love the friend group and, predictably, Michael annoyed me.

I'm actually replaying Sins of London right now - first time I picked Sherlock, and this time I'm romancing Glashtyn. I love Abigail, she's adorable and. Gray annoys me. (Are you sensing a pattern yet? Lmao)

I LOVE Love From Outer Space, and of course I love Amber with Ray the best, though I do like her with the others except for Ursula. Because I absolutely ship Ursula with that redhead, can't remember her name right now. They'd be so cute as a couple. But yeah, I also love that entire friend group.

Of course, I also love Flame of Samsara so far, and right now I'm shipping Devi with Ram, my second playthrough will be with Ian. Also, I didn't think Kairas would die this soon in the book, I thought he'd make it to the last or second last chapter of book one. Apparently not though.

Garden of Eden I really like so far, the author also wrote On Thin Ice so I knew that this is going to be another quality story - and I have not been disappointed so far. I'm stuck between wanting to romance Castiel or the actor first.

As for Time Catcher, the plot feels a little slow to me so far, and I don't find myself wanting to romance any of the introduced LIs, a phenomenon which is even rarer than me wanting to romance all of them lol.

For the MCs that can be renamed, I do change their names 80% of the time.

Heaven's Secret - I changed to Grace

Chasing You/2 - I changed to Sylvia

Rage of the Titans - I changed to Ariane

On Thin Ice - I changed to Nadia

Seduced By The Rhythm - I changed from Michelle to Miranda I'm pretty sure

Sins of London - I changed from Irene to Rebecca

Vying For Versailles - I changed to Jacqueline

Time Catcher - I changed from Nova to Circe (because I already have an OC called Nova)

And if I changed any other names, I don't remember right now.

*The sounds of incoherent screaming and feet pounding the floor as I proverbially run down the hallway and into your room blog*

HELLO YOU LIKE ROMANCE CLUB AND ARCANUM SELENA X LIAM!!!!!?????!?!???

Bless, I need someone to talk about RC that funky little app (and Lovestruck may your memory be blessed, RIP.)

SLDJDKFJF I do!!!! And I do 🥰

I just finished arcanum for the first time (with the Liam romance 🥰) !!!!

I’ve been playing romance club for like a year maybe?? I’m in the top 15% of players 😌✨

[clansayeed]

Bound by Choice ― III.iii. Belief

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Some people spend their whole lives looking for something to believe in. They're lucky that they never had to.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Two months later…

Cynbel watches as Ambrose leans against the railing with hands braced on the cold metal. Colder sea spray lashes at their cheeks under the night sky but they pay it little mind. They have, perhaps, had enough heat and fire to last more than one mortal lifetime.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fill in my life.” The American groans, and Cynbel actually feels bad for him.

“There is far more to this life than fighting someone else’s wars. Give it time — you’ll see why we were starving so.”

Together the man glance down to the depths below. Where the foam left in the wake of their ship fades pink from bodies already lost underneath the ocean’s current.

“If y’all eat like that every day I’m startin’ to get it.”

And true enough the last few weeks of travel have been positively lavish compared to the squalor of mine living. Even this limited food supply seems boundless when they remember the rot of starvation in their bellies. But that does not diminish how good it is — how good it feels to be, not unlike the sea, free.

Sayeed held up her end of the bargain, so it was only fair that Cynbel and Isseya do the same. The where of their journey did not matter so long as they were far from Virginia’s shores. The when was with haste — and for good reason.

With none left to lead them the remaining militia of the Order of the Dawn was made harmless. The comparisons of the sides were unfortunately fraught with similarities, some not even Cynbel could deny. As the Order had culled the Old Blood; the vampires who had survived centuries of their fruitless extermination attempts, so had the war turned in their favor. But with only the newly inducted left to lead them — and many with ties that bound them to communities, to families; to vulnerability — their ‘holy mission’ was made second to the more pressing matters of the not-so-United States.

He couldn’t care less about the Godmaker’s plans now, whether he chooses to retaliate against the Trinity’s desertion of him or not. Two decks below his beloveds pass the boring hours with card games and wistful possibilities of when they make port.

He needs nothing else.

Now imagine their surprise at the familiar sight catching the last call to board. His battalion may now be nothing more than ash but there was no reason for Ambrose to turn and run. In fact Valdas had a strong inclination to name him Gaius’ spy and cast him overboard.

With only a matter of days before they find Europe on the horizon… he actually can’t remember why they didn’t.

A life for a life.

In between shuffled decks and lavish feasting and their halfhearted attempts at breaking through the hull by way of their beds, though, the Golden Son has found himself fond of the man. Older in appearance and admittedly wise beyond his years — but still so very new to what this life could offer—would offer, now.

Habit makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand when Ambrose reaches inside the breast pocket of his coat; eases when he sees the tinder box and cigarettes rolled with absolutely no skill whatsoever in his hands.

Ambrose sparks the tinder. Cynbel swallows down nightmares of hellfire. They share a moment of quiet.

“I should have said this before…” Cynbel begins around a mouth of ill-tasting smoke, “but when we make port this — our camaraderie — will come to an end.”

He’s come to expect the long silences in between answers, so much so that it barely feels like any time has passed at all when Ambrose finally does speak.

“I thought as much.” And doesn’t that just make the older vampire laugh.

“Two millennia and only now do we meet someone who understands. Shame and pity.”

“Oh I don’t, not even a lick.” The eyes that meet his, though, contradict Ambrose in every way. Eyes that seem sure and solid despite the rocking beneath their feet. So he continues.

“You three — whatever you’ve got there is… it’s dangerous.” So they have been told, and by lesser men. “But through this whole fight I’ve seen men Turn, live, and die over and over again without even a drop of the conviction you two’ve got for your Maker. I’ll be frank with you, Cynbel. It’s unsettling.”

“It’s love.”

“Is that what love is? I’m really askin’ here. Because I sure as hell ain’t ever felt a love like that. Not in this lifetime or the one that came before it.”

Just like that the conversation takes a turn for the uninteresting. Cynbel draws his attention out to the midnight horizon, where one can’t tell the sky from the sea. “All the more pitiful are you, then. I will not justify what we are for your whims, Ambrose. Not for you, not for Sayeed, not for anyone.”

“You misunderstand.”

“I doubt that.”

“It ain’t your strange-like love I’m interested in, but rather what it makes you.”

The only reason he’d offered Ambrose company was because Iss’ refused to play anything other than rummy, and he’s terrible at rummy. And standing here he can’t help but wonder which is more of a torture.

“You and Isseya nearly died for him. And I think you would have should that have been what you needed to do.”

“Of course we would have.”

“And I couldn’t understand why — not really. Why you’d risk yourselves, risk anyone else, but not him.”

Cynbel doesn’t bother hiding the venom in his answer. “Because He is more than they were. More than Iss’ or myself could ever hope to be. That is the kind of devotion He inspires. Would you not do the same for Augustine? Or your First, to make a finer comparison of it.”

The same long pause — but this one drags out. Thin, fragile between them and quickly unraveling at the seams. Then—

“No.”

“Then you’re wasting time searching for answers when you would not even recognize them when found. We would have died for Him — of course. But that is merely part of it. That is what the rest of the world sees and takes us to be entirely. We are more than the death we bring and would bear for Him.

“No one seems to realize that we lived for him. Just as fiercely — perhaps even more so because we could have died, but we did not. That is what has driven our lust for living; not that we would fall to our knees and take the sword with our necks for Him, but that He gives us the strength to take the sword in hand and say ‘no more.’”

Perhaps it would be nice to be understood for once. For the ages not to seem so ignorant and dull as they always have because one person — just one, that’s all it would take — realizes their love is not about sacrifice. But that it is about survival.

In silence Ambrose takes out another cigarette, more flint. Offers him one but Cynbel declines with a small shake of his head. Four weeks he’s been able to put the events of that day behind him as he had always done. Left it in the past and continued on to a future where they need not worry about being apart.

Four fucking weeks, but that’s all.

Ambrose keeps the cigarette between his lips when he speaks again. “I lived human for forty-some years. Spent my whole young life livin’ just as most did; you understand,” —he marched the breadth of those states just the same, he understands quite well— “and Turnin’ gave me more than just the power to free myself. It gave me — well, I thought — somethin’ to believe in.”

“Immortality?”

“The First.” The way he says her name is wistful enough to strike up a curiosity in Cynbel, much like the small flame struck up on his tinderbox.

Wistful, and no longer so reverent.

“Won’t say I’m the only one, either. There were a lotta boys like me who heard about the First Vampire who rose herself up from false judgment, from bein’ put in chains on another’s lies, and not only struck her enemies down but wanted to make a place where all like her were just as free.”

They are words that draw Cynbel back to Charlottesville, to the barn and Ambrose with his little box of ashes and his little gathering and his little words of worship and meaning in their comrade’s death. Strange that the man from then is the same one who stands before him now.

“Faith does wonders in times of strife.”

“It did — ‘til I heard you two talk about your Maker, your Made-God.”

“And what has that changed in you, hm?”

“The first time I ever heard Augustine tell the story of the First Vampire he made sure we well knew that every death was a piece’a her power going home — just another drop to fill some vessel that would bring her back to save us.

“But you don’t think like that,” Ambrose says it like a revelation; like wool no longer being pulled over his eyes, “and it got me thinking about what exactly I’m keepin’ immortality for. ‘Cause I gotta say doin’ it for a love like that sounds a helluva lot better than staying around just so some day I can die for a myth.”

Cynbel narrows his eyes. “The First was no myth. She was very real.”

“I’m sure she was, Old Blood. To you and Isseya and even Valdas, probably. Just like she’s real to Augustine and Sayeed. But that’s all two thousand years gone now. Who knows if she’ll ever come back, or when. That makes her pretty myth-like to me.”

What does one say to that? He may have propositioned Ambrose for this their night of feasting with a bottle of cheap liquor in hand but it wasn’t nearly enough to bring this kind of philosophical debate out of him. Yet it’s affirming in a way—not that any of the Trinity would seek affirmation for themselves, for their devotion to one another—he didn’t quite expect.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re trying to confess your love to me or not.”

“Ha!” Ambrose laughs so hard his cigarette tumbles into the sea not half-finished. Deserves it. “In your dreams. Though I’ll start rackin’ up a tally seeing as that’s the second time you’ve propositioned me.”

“You’re being terribly rude. And it’s a terribly long swim back to the colonies.”

But the other man just shakes his head. “Truth be told no one’s ever let me ramble on this long about anythin’. Ended up a little off the tracks.”

“A little?”

“All I’m saying, Cynbel, is you and yours —”

“The Trinity, respect your elders.”

“— yeah, sure. Whatever you call yourselves—that kind of devotion can be inspiring to my kind of folk. A lot more than prayin’ on ‘maybes.’ What was that thing, the one Isseya said in the caravan.”

“Which — oh, while she was eating your man for insubordination?”

There’s a clatter behind them and both men turn towards it. They had found themselves so deep in debate that neither took notice to the young couple stretching their legs under the moon. To the young wife who looks aghast and sullied just for hearing the words and to her young husband suddenly trying to pull her to some imagined safety.

Cynbel and Ambrose take the same moment to watch them scurry along before they resume. A needed break in the tension.

He remembers it of course. Clear as the daylight that had struck them down. Even in their desperation and fear for Valdas’ fate it was hard—literally—not to hear such things from her bloodied teeth and find himself aroused.

“‘I choose to believe in a God who walks beside me. Who will answer when I call.’”

Ambrose nods. “Strange and, pardon my French, fuckin’ insane as she was then, that’s the kind of stuff gospels are made from.”

“So you’re proposing, what,” Cynbel’s disbelief is obvious, “The Gospel of Valdemaras?”

Silence. Real, non-hesitant silence. The kind of silence that forces Cynbel to face the man for answers and finds them in a resolution unfounded in those strange, dark eyes.

Well… one person finally understands. If only he knew what that means.

[thebardisabird]

Would you believe me if I told you I wrote this while in front of the ocean? Cause I did. Anywho, here’s a quick dramatic scenario with our king of the sea. Poseidon Karamatsu x Reader! UNDER THE CUT! 

Shackles. That’s what was keeping your wrists locked to the deck. You were exhausted, beaten down by endless rain and the roughhousing of the crew behind you. Tears never ceased from streaming down your cheeks as you looked down at your tattered gown. Queen of the sea was to be your rightful status, yet you already felt stripped of your title. Your mermaidity. The sapphire encrusted crown bestowed to you by the gods themselves, was stolen. Locked away in the hands of a band of filthy pirates. The same pirates who chained you to their ship with a motive. You were to be wed today. Your dress was of the finest caddisfly silk - woven carefully with white seaweed and embellished with pieces of cerulean coral. The garment that represented the happiest day of your life...was in shambles. You didn’t make it to the altar before your wedding reef was ransacked - hooks and nets scattering throughout the place. Some of the citizens (your family included) ended up hurt, some escaped by the nick of their fins. Come to find you were the prize they were after. A rugged captain, known far and wide by the name of Osomatsu, had pulled you from your home. “It’s nothing personal,” you remembered him laughing, “I just owe a sea witch a favor.” His boots thumped against the deck, circling your frame, and your eyes narrowed at the monster of a man. Drawing his sword, you squealed in terror behind the parchment that was stuffed in your mouth. He chuckled at your fright, taking the blunt end to lift your chin. Misty eyes spilled fresh tears in the gaze of ruthless brown. “Such a shame I have to give up a beautiful mermaid...” he withdrew his weapon from you to sheath it, “but immortality comes with a price.” Your chains were yanked, pulling you forcefully to the dampened wood, “...And I’m willing to pay anything.” You were terrified of what would become of your fate. Did your husband-to-be know of your kidnapping? What did a sea witch want with you? Were you going to die? Your dejected thoughts had run through your mind all day as you were quickly whisked away to the far side of the sea. The rain that accompanied your somber situation was fitting. The storm in your heart, restless like the sea itself. Wait...a storm? At the sudden realization, the boat rocked dangerously, your form being dragged with it. Waves smashed against the sides, angry in their targeting of the ship. Thinking quickly you chewed on the parchment in your mouth, the dampened paper minimizing at your ministrations enough for you to spit out. You gasped, head turning out to the bow where an eruption of water began. Water piled high - higher than any mammal or sea creature could make and you knew that meant one thing - “KARAMATSU!” you screamed, wrists yanking at the steel that bound you. At your cry, azure eyes peered through the veil of the geyser. A roaring voice sounded over the vicinity in the sound of a war cry, and the crew behind you cowered in terror. You heard the captain’s door slam open, “What the hell is going on?!” “Cap’n...l-look!” Osomatsu’s face dropped at the sight before him. Water rolled off the gargantuan god, and it was then he realized he was staring at a titan. The god of the sea, Poseidon himself - your engraged fiancée, Karamatsu. The scales that adorned his body glowed menacingly against the black of the ocean. “You mortals...” he growled between grit teeth, “The gall of you to defy a god!” A thunderous clap clashed against the side of the ship. The old wood was slowly being stripped with the dark waves. “I bring you food so your kind wouldn’t starve.” A hole was punched through the port side. “I give you the vastness of my kingdom...MY WATERS WITH WHICH YOU ROAM.” The stern was obliterated by water. “You assumed a deal with a sea witch could overthrow me?! I HAIL FROM IMMORTALS.” Your beloved was blinded by fury, seeing you shackled like a prisoner. He shook with anger, piercing gaze glowing amidst the dark mist that surrounded him. He eyed the tiny captain, whose face read of amusement. At the snap of his fingers, his crown manifested over his brow, “You were foolish to infiltrate my wedding,” Karamatsu rose, tides rising with his movement, “Barbaric to harm my family and my citizens...” He outstretched his armored hand, a golden glow shining over his fingertips. The deity let out a low growl, and in his hand materialized his trident. He gripped it with great vehemence, spinning it with precision to aim the blades at Osomatsu’s ship. With venom on his tongue he seethed, “Return my wife at once.” The pirate captain glared at the god, arms coming to stretch completely out. Judging by the king’s words, he knew he was beat. The chase for immortality sweetened the pot too much so that he could not finish the meal. So, pride at the forefront, he stood between the king and his bride. “You’ll never take her as long as I live.” With that, Karmatsu drew back, narrowing his eyes at the vacuous pirate, “Then you’ll die for your transgression, impudent mortal.” Closing his eyes, Osomatsu let the strike hit the bow. The sea swallowed the blow, taking all living aboard the ship into their awaited graves far below the waves. Karamatsu’s trident pierced the steel of your shackles, breaking you free in an instant. Heart in your throat, your fins propelled you to his gigantic form, sobbing freely as you did. The king pulled his trident back, icey stare ensuring no signs of human life remained. With a soft glow, the trident dissipated, and the waves slowly calmed. You touched a hand to his leg, the cool scales bringing you comfort. He sighed aloud, the same geyser encasing him in a shroud of water before slowly decreasing down toward you. When he moved from the covering, you immediately swam into his arms. He took your lips for a desperate kiss: sadness, fear, anger, and relief all tastes that danced on his tongue. His arms came around your waist and he held you close, like he feared for his life he’d lose you again. You trembled against his chest, terror and happiness a weighty mix on your heart. He pulled from your lips, hand cupping your chin gingerly, “Are you hurt, my love?” You shook your head, and you sobbed once more, “I was so frightened...they were going to throw me to a sea witch!” He stroked your hair, chin resting at the top of your head, “Shhh, shh shh, I’ve got you, darling,” he sneered at the mention of the witch, “She wants what she can’t have...me.” You lifted your head, “Kara...?” His gaze lowered to meet your own, “No witch will take you from me...promises of immortality or not.” He kissed you briefly, “You are my queen. I made that apparent to all of our kingdom. There isn’t a soul alive who can break our bond.” There was anguish in his voice, but you knew the repercussions of your kidnapping was aching him. Karamatsu was never the type to use his power as a deity this way...his benevolence preceded him. But seeing you, the love of his life, in chains - royalty being treated like a common tuna. Fire burned in the king’s heart. No human nor magic wielder had the right to come between him and his beloved. Imprudence had no place in the face of a god...so Karamatsu was left to impart an undesirable reminder. Your hands came to his face, interrupting the slight grief that plagued his thoughts. Seeing the understanding in your gaze, he leaned into your gentle touch. “...Come,” he said, taking your hands into his, “Let’s go home.” —— It was weeks of rebuilding the wedding reef and making sure the people injured were rehabilitated to full health, but you finally made it. Your dress was resewn, your crown repolished and adorned gracefully atop your head. At the front of the reef was the king, trident in hand and aureate robes flowing off of his shoulders. His eyes were glued to your ethereal form, feeling that if by Cronus’ hand alone were to kill him at that moment, you being the last thing he saw would be a fitting end. Your hands were taken in his, and the Monsignor began the wedding ceremony. This is where you belonged and no one would stand in his way of being with you. His goddess; queen of the sea, and of his heart.

[madboxwithagirl]

No Reset

IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ:

After posting this story, it was made public that the lead singer of Brand New, the band that sings the song featured in this fic, committed sex crimes against multiple teenage girls. I no longer support this band or their work. I will not be editing this specific posting of the story, but a new version with a different song will be released in the near future. It will be exactly the same story, just with a new song and title. Thank you for reading.

10th Doctor x Reader

Hello everyone! So before I get to the story, I’d like to give the biggest shoutout to @blueboxshenanigans11 for not only inspiring me to start writing, but for also being my beta reader! Go give her a follow and read her Doctor x Reader stories (they’re really good!)

This is based off of the interlude in the song “Out of Mana” by Brand New. I would highly suggest listening to it!

https://youtu.be/kuta3PDr-4E?t=3m46s

This is my first story on here, so any and all likes, reblogs, follows, and feedback are welcome. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so all can enjoy it! I also avoid using Y/N and other similar things in my writing if I can, so just a fair warning. Enjoy!

Summery: The Doctor learns about your love for him and finds that you’ll always be around, even after your tragic death.

Warnings: Heavy Angst. Blood. Major Character Death. Cursing. Depression.

Words: 3,993

Humans are mortal creatures, this is very well known. With such short lifespans and so many outside forces that can easily shorten them more, humans are not the most resilient of beings. And yet, they survive years upon years of torment from both mind and body. Some manage to heal from what should have been fatal wounds or diseases. Miracles, they are called.

The Doctor saw a lot in humans. While they may not be the strongest of species, they’re quite mysterious at times, though many are easy to figure out. A glance into their eyes can reveal their entire souls to their viewers. A quick look and he can see their pain, happiness, confusion, and every other feeling under their rather small sun.

Yet somehow, you managed to keep your most intimate of feelings held under lock and key. Now, this rather smart alien knew full and well that you were hiding things from him, but he could never find a way to see into your soul. You were a defensive human, he knew, but he always thought that perhaps he could coax you out of your shell. He wanted to know every little thing about you from your favorite color, to your saddest memory, to your worst fear.

Despite knowing that so much of you was inaccessible, he managed to fall in love with you. He loved yet hated the mystery surrounding you, wanting nothing more than to crack open the locks on your heart and soul and loot every little thing that they held. But he would never dare to try to force open your hidden treasures. He needed you to unlock them on your own terms. Oh, how he tried to get you to show him every part of your mystery. He would pour out his hearts to you, lament to you his sorrows, silently beg you to maybe, just maybe, give him a story of your own past to make him feel less alone and perhaps relate to someone else.

But, alas, you would never allow yourself to open up to him. This impossible man didn’t need to know the struggles of a minuscule human. His life had been full of sorrows and demons that you could never fathom trying to fight. He had lost his entire species, taken by his own hand from a decision that none, not even the most powerful of gods, should ever have to make. What were your demons compared to that? No, you didn’t need him to feel sorry for you.

You sealed up your being, bound it in rope and chains. You locked yourself up nice and tight and let the key fall into your ocean of despair. You knew that this alien-man would be your downfall if you didn’t block off your emotions from him. Now, you would allow yourself to laugh along with him when he made a rather Doctor-like error and you would allow yourself to hold him close as he offered you his broken hearts to mend. You would offer up the best of yourself, the kindness and thoughtfulness that your heart would allow.

But in your struggle to keep your emotions in their prison, one managed to escape your watchful eye: adoration. You somehow had let yourself grow attached to the Time Lord, but not just as an acquaintance or even a best friend, but full blown head-over-heels in love. Night after night you scolded yourself for letting yourself fall for the perfectly flawed being who took you away from your original suffering, only to bring on more by just being so wonderful. You knew that anything intimate between the almost-immortal man would never last, so you never said a word to him.

And so you continued on, keeping a tight grip on your secrets for years, fighting off the rust and the fire from your bounds. But the rope was burning and the rust was poisoning. You were losing an uphill battle and all you wanted was to open yourself up and let everything spill out onto the TARDIS floor so the Doctor could sort through the mess and perhaps find something he liked. You wanted to stop fighting, finally give your treasures up, and maybe retire away somewhere far away from your love so you could relax once again.

The bottled up thoughts started to become too much for you. You had to get something, anything, out in any way possible. You knew you couldn’t tell the Doctor of your sin, no matter how much you desired to do so. You got yourself a journal from the library, happy that it was yet to be stained with the ink of a flowing thought. Starting off slowly, you settled with just a simple sentence in your most wonderful of handwriting.

“I’m in love with the Doctor.”

                                                          ___

It was supposed to be a simple trip to your hometown.

It was supposed to be a quick visit, that was all.

It wasn’t supposed to have any deadly aliens looking for the Doctor.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Humans are mortal creatures, he knew. Of course he knew that. But he wasn’t prepared to face that reality again so soon. And he certainly wasn’t prepared to face that reality with you.

His clothing was stained with your life force from head to toe. Not a single article was left untouched, all of it drenched in the blood of his beloved. The Doctor had held you in your final moments, hysterical and oh so terrified. He knew that you were dying, that there was nothing that he could do to fix you. There was so much blood, from each deep wound to what was pouring out of your mouth. It was so much more than he really realized that a human could hold. Not knowing what to say, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. He confessed his sin to you, kissing your forehead roughly, feeling your cooling body.

And as you began to fade away, you let your rope and chains go slack. You let him see into your soul. You stared up at him, taking in every little detail for what you knew would be the final time while he stared deeply into your glossy eyes. He let out a sob as he saw the pure fear in your eyes, something that he had never been granted to see before. You wished that you could tell him that you loved him too, that you wished you had told him sooner, that you had told him everything, but you couldn’t. You were too weak and the blood pooling from your mouth wouldn’t have allowed you to anyway. As the Doctor began to repeat his confession, you slipped into your everlasting sleep. The last thing you saw were his gorgeous but incredibly sad, brown eyes. You let your own orbs close and you let yourself slip away.

Everything the Doctor did after that was a blur. He remembered finishing off your killers and he remembered taking your body to your family. He didn’t remember ever making it back to the TARDIS, or the machine’s broken whirls upon realizing that you were gone. He didn’t know how long he was curled up on the ship’s floor, begging whatever god that was out there to bring you back to him. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten or had a sip of water. All he knew was that you were gone forever and that he’d never get to see you again.

Eventually, the broken man rose from his spot on the cold, metal flooring and he stumbled his way through the TARDIS. He needed to shower. He needed to get your blood off of his body. He needed to get rid of the smell of your death. A door appeared at the end of the hallway and he made his way into the shower that his ship had kindly found for him. He stripped of everything and stepped into the shower, turning the hot water on. His skin became red from the scalding water, but he didn’t notice. All he could register was that your blood was all over his body. It had soaked through to his skin, staining him. And so he scrubbed and he scrubbed and he scrubbed but your blood wouldn’t come off. He cried out and scrubbed harder and harder until his own blood found its way to the surface. At this, he quit his attempts and leaned back against the shower wall, defeated. Your blood would never leave his hands.

The TARDIS had taken the bloody clothing and disposed of them before the Doctor finally got out of the shower. She had replaced them with soft and clean sleepwear, for which the Time Lord was grateful. He slowly donned them and left the bathroom, nearly sobbing when he saw where he was. The TARDIS had lead him to your room. Your room was decorated from items found in the ship and gifts that the Doctor had given you on various trips. It was clean and organized, all of your valuables on display throughout the space.

And it still smelled like you.

The Doctor made his way to your bed and wrapped himself up in your blankets, wanting to take in your scent once more. It was such a lovely change from the blood that he had known for who knows how long. He held one of your pillows close to him, imagining that it was you. He used to love to cuddle with you whenever he was feeling particularly down. You would hold onto him tightly and hum your favorite songs, doing what you could to sooth him. How he wished that he could hear you hum into his ear one final time.

He eventually fell into a restless sleep, seeing images of you being attacked and hurt by the aliens over and over again. He never able to stop your death. He awoke a few hours later covered in sweat, fresh tears falling onto the pillow. He buried his face into the pillow and cried, letting all his emotions out. He needed you more than ever. How was he going to live without you? You were his most valuable treasure and you had been stolen from him.

The Doctor soon sat up and looked around your room, wanting to soak up everything he could about you. Even though you were long gone, he hoped that maybe he could learn more about you from your possessions, maybe finding out more about your values from them. He hoped that it might sooth him, even if only for a moment. Taking a deep and shaky breath, he untangled himself from the blankets and got up, immediately missing the strong scent from the fabrics.

To the Doctor’s dismay, nothing immediately seemed to be gained from any of your items. All that was there were miscellaneous TARDIS items, the many gifts he had given you, and some pretty little souvenirs from tourist traps in foreign places (though you never seemed to care, they were all new and different to you). However, upon further inspection, he saw that his presents were the most cared for and that they were the most proudly displayed. Each item was placed methodically, in places that you would be around most. They were on your dresser, your desk, your nightstand. Each was covered in far less dust than the souvenirs (how long had it really been since you passed?) and they all looked brand new.

His tired eyes locked onto one particular item on your desk. He picked up an old and worn journal that he recognized as a gift to him from a journey long passed. A bit confused as to why it was in your room, he slowly opened it, not entirely sure what to expect. As he read the first line of your familiar handwriting, he gasped and cried out.

“I’m in love with the Doctor.”

His entire form began to shake and fresh tears ran from his eyes. You loved him. You had committed the same sin as he had and fallen in love with a creature that you shouldn’t have. He sat himself back down onto the bed and tried to steady his breathing, overjoyed that you had felt the same but devastated that it was never meant to be. God, he knew that he shouldn’t read more, for it was your own personal thoughts that had bled onto the pages, but he simply couldn’t contain himself. Taking a few deep breaths and wiping his eyes, he continued to read your secret thoughts.

The book was filled with memories from your past that you had been too scared to reveal to him. His hearts cracked at everything you had had to suffer through throughout the years prior to arriving on the TARDIS. Why hadn’t you told him? Why did he have to find out through a journal after your life had been snatched from you? The Time Lord soon left behind the writings of your past life and found himself reading of life on the ship and your new form of suffering.

“Damn the Doctor. Why did he have to find me? Why did I have to find him? Why couldn’t we have just not met? I would have continued to live my boring old life, yeah, but I wouldn’t have been doomed to be in love with an impossible man with an impossible machine doing impossible things. I could just be working in a cubical or sitting at a front desk and greeting people each day. Nothing glamorous, but normal. No gorgeous alien to distract me each day and make me want to commit some weird inter-planet bestiality acts.

I don’t understand how I let myself fall in love with this man, but I did, and I regret it each and every moment of my life. I never wanted to open up to anyone ever again, but this stupid man comes in and tries to get me to spill my guts to him. And I really fucking want to. But my past and my problems are nothing compared to his. He’s suffered more than any human has. He’s the last of his kind, doomed to travel the universe alone. Every now and again, a new person shows up and spends a little time with him, but they all leave in the end, he’s said. How does he go day after day knowing this? Knowing that he’s going to live for centuries more and lose everyone that he befriends? He is a strong man, the strongest I’ve ever met.

He told me of Rose, the last person to posses his hearts, and everything that had happened. As he cried and revealed the terrible events, I couldn’t help but feel jealous. It was selfish of me, really, but I wished that he would feel the same level of attachment to me. I could never tell him that, of course. I heard of Martha. He doesn’t need to know that another human is in love with him.

It’s a terrible fate to be in love with the Doctor it seems. I hate that I’m doomed to suffer the same fate. I thought that leaving that old life behind would help me forget, or at least feel more okay with, the pain that everything had caused. What I didn’t expect was to find a new pain with the madman. Maybe one day I’ll tell him so I can stop hiding from it. It’s unlikely, though.”

The Doctor let out a bitter laugh, agreeing with your words. Loving him was a terrible fate, a curse even. Anyone who loves him finds nothing but suffering and, in turn, hurts him. He grit his teeth and let out a crying howl, angry with himself for being so selfish. You thought yourself as selfish for wanting his love, but there was no shame in that. No, he was the selfish one for taking so many away with him and causing them pain, whether he meant to or not. Every companion gets hurt in some way and it was all his fault. He brought pain to so many simply because he didn’t want to be lonely. He deserved to be alone. He wasn’t some savior or messiah, but a monster, a beast that brought destruction everywhere he went.

But yet, you had felt sorry for him. You put his problems over yours, caring for him and loving him even after finding out what he had done to Gallifrey. You comforted him, made him feel as if he was important. You made him feel like he deserved to be happy. But that was who you were. You saw who he was when you were traveling, when you encountered a foe or someone who needed help. You saw how he tried to fix everything, even if it wasn’t possible or if he would get hurt in the process. He was a selfless man, and hearing of his atrocities didn’t change your mind on that. You had risked your life for him time and time again, knowing that he deserved to live and eventually find happiness more than anyone else. You loved him.

The more he read, the more sorrowful he became, but he simply couldn’t stop. He needed to know everything about you. He had longed to know what you had kept hidden away from him, but he had wanted you to tell him on your own accord, finally venting to him each and every little detail about your life. He wanted to hold you and comfort you like you had for him. He wanted you to feel loved and protected. But fate would never allow him that. Instead, he was here in your abandoned room, invading your privacy. He truly was a selfish man.

Soon, he reached the final entries. Knowing that this would be the last of you that he would ever take in, he read through slowly.

“We’re going to visit my hometown today. So many terrible memories have been made there, but I wanted to visit the old place where I used to hide away when things were bad. Maybe that will help me clear my mind a bit. But then again, maybe I’m getting too hopeful. After all, that was where I found the TARDIS. I will never forget seeing that wonderful, blue box, meeting the strange man with the wild hair and overabundance of clothing (seriously, who needs that much outerwear?), and wondering who the hell he was. I never imagined that my life was going to change so suddenly and so dramatically.

The Doctor has truly been kind to me in the time that I’ve been here. He’s always willing to take me anywhere I want to go, excited to see the places I find the most fascinating. I know it’s really him trying to figure out more about me since I won’t open up to him, and I commend him for being creative in his ways. He’s a brilliant man, but not even he can see into my soul. But I want to tell him. It’s starting to become too much for me to bare. I want to finally get everything off my chest and expose my thoughts and feelings to him. I can’t handle it anymore. I have to tell him.

When we get to my special place, the place where we met, I will tell him it all. If it goes badly, which it most likely will, I will be able to stay there on Earth. No need to go back into the TARDIS and say my goodbyes. I can simply walk away and try to continue at home on Earth. But if by some miracle he feels the same and wants me to continue traveling with him, I will continue to do so. I can only hope for the best.”

“It’s been a few hours since the last entry and we haven’t left yet. The Doctor isn’t in the console room and I can’t find him anywhere. I assume that he’s in a room that I can’t find or he’s stepped out for a bit. I took that time alone to examine the console of the TARDIS. This box is truly an impossible machine. She’s a living being and has her own thoughts and emotions. She’s been just as kind as the Doctor, taking me to places that even I didn’t know that I wanted to go to. She seems to see more into my soul than the Doctor. I’ll bet anything that she can read minds.

Haha, as soon as I wrote that, she started to play a song that’s been stuck in my head. I suppose that proves my suspicions. I only hope that she doesn’t tell the Doctor any of my secrets. Though, if it’s been this long already with nothing coming out, I guess I’m safe. I’m hopeful that I won’t have to leave this wonderful place that I’ve learned to call my home. I don’t know how I’m going to survive if I go. I always thought that I’d live out the rest of my life here. I don’t want to go.”

“The TARDIS is continuing to play the song, over and over again. Why is she doing this? Does she want me to do something? I’m a bit lost. I think I’m going to investigate some before we head off. This blasted machine may seem to like me, but she sure makes things tough on me at times. It’s well worth it though. And considering how this very well may be the last time here, I should take in all I can. Please, don’t let this be it.”

The Doctor suddenly heard the soft sound of wind chimes throughout the room, but saw no such things. Instead, he saw an image of a lost soul appear faintly in the room. And then he heard a soft, sad voice began to sing to a soft guitar strum.

“I have to go

I want to say I'm in love with you

And I'm more than the skin of my teeth

I digress

I am a mess, I'm in love with you

I will go without water or sleep

I'm a ghost

I can't say I know that I'm even here

Or is this some eternal test

Hold me close

I'll never know if it's more or less

No reset

I love you, Doctor.”

The song ended as you spoke your most well guarded secret, your voice fading away with the declaration that the Doctor had longed to hear you say. The TARDIS must have played your song over and over until you had given in and sang along. Your eyes were closed in the recording as you slowly danced to the somber tune. It looked as if you were unaware that you were being filmed. The machine had done it as if she knew that something was going to go wrong, that you would never return.

Silent tears ran down the Doctor’s face, his eyes never leaving your form. His ship had given you back to him. She had led him to your book of secrets so he could finally solve your mysteries, so he would know that you returned his feelings. She had recorded your being so he would always have a view of you unbroken, alive, and healthy. She taped your voice so that the Doctor would never forget what you had sounded like. But the most wonderful thing that she had done was catch your lost voice saying out loud that you loved him.

With a broken smile, your Doctor closed the journal and held it tightly to his chest. Looking up at your still image, he whispered out his greatest curse one final time.

“I love you too, my Treasure.”